Chapter Text
The first time someone asked him what he was doing there, Izumi Sena didn’t answer.
He simply adjusted the sleeve of his coat, gaze fixed somewhere past the person—past the street, past the flickering traffic light, past the steady rhythm of a city that refused to notice him—and said nothing at all.
Because there wasn’t an answer that wouldn’t sound ridiculous.
*I’m waiting.*
The words would sit too heavily in the air, too exposed. They would invite pity, or worse—understanding. And Izumi didn’t want either.
So he stayed quiet.
It wasn’t a remarkable place.
That was the strangest part.
No landmark, no scenic view—just a corner where two streets met at an angle slightly too sharp, as if the city planners had argued and never quite agreed. A convenience store sat across from it, its automatic doors sighing open and closed in tired repetition. The glow of its fluorescent lights spilled onto the pavement, pale and unflattering.
There was a bench, though.
Old, slightly uneven, the paint worn thin enough that the wood beneath showed through like scars.
That was the place.
Their place.
Izumi stood beside it now, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, posture straight in a way that suggested control more than comfort. The evening air had begun to cool, carrying with it the faint promise of rain. It curled around him, tugging lightly at the ends of his hair, as if trying to coax him into leaving.
He didn’t move.
A passing couple slowed for half a second—just enough to glance at him, to take in the way he lingered without purpose. The girl whispered something under her breath. The boy shrugged.
They kept walking.
Everyone always did.
He checked his phone.
No new messages.
Of course not.
Still, his thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer than necessary, as if the act of looking might somehow summon something into existence. A name. A notification. Anything.
It didn’t.
With a soft exhale, Izumi slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“…Ridiculous,” he muttered.
The word dissolved into the air almost as soon as it left him, carried away by the faint hum of passing cars.
---
It had started as an accident.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
The first time he returned here after everything ended, it had been late—far too late for anyone sensible to be out. The city had quieted into something softer, the sharp edges of daytime worn down into shadows and dim lights.
He hadn’t meant to stop.
His feet had simply… slowed.
And then paused.
And then—
There he was.
Standing in front of the bench, staring at it like it might speak first.
---
“If we ever get lost,” a voice echoed faintly in his memory, warm with lazy amusement, “we’ll just meet here again, okay?”
Izumi’s fingers curled slightly in his pockets.
“…As if that would ever happen,” he had replied back then, scoffing, rolling his eyes in practiced annoyance.
But he had sat down anyway.
Right beside him.
Close enough that their shoulders brushed.
---
A breeze passed through the street now, sharper than before. It carried the scent of rain—distant, but approaching.
Izumi glanced up at the sky.
Clouds had gathered quietly, blanketing the fading light in a dull gray that pressed low against the city. It felt… fitting.
“…You always did like this kind of weather,” he said under his breath.
There was no response.
There never was.
---
Days had turned into a week.
A week had turned into two.
Izumi told himself, at first, that he was only passing by. That it just happened to be on his way. That stopping for a few minutes wasn’t anything significant.
He told himself a lot of things.
The truth settled in more slowly.
Like rain soaking through fabric, unnoticed until it was too late.
---
Now, it was routine.
Unspoken. Unacknowledged.
But steady.
He would finish his day, make his way through familiar streets, and eventually—inevitably—end up here. At the same corner. By the same worn bench.
Waiting.
For what?
That was the part he refused to examine too closely.
Because if he did, he might have to admit something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.
A drop of water landed on his hand.
Izumi blinked, glancing down at it.
Another followed, darker against the fabric of his sleeve.
Then another.
Rain.
Soft at first. Hesitant.
As if even the sky wasn’t sure it wanted to commit.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t step toward the convenience store for shelter. Didn’t sit. Didn’t leave.
He simply stood there, letting the rain gather, each drop a quiet insistence against his skin.
A few people hurried past now, ducking under umbrellas, quickening their pace. The world shifted into motion around him—faster, more urgent.
Izumi remained still.
---
“…You’re late.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Barely louder than the rain.
Barely more than a breath.
But they lingered.
Hung there.
Waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come.
Across the street, the convenience store doors opened again with their familiar mechanical sigh. Light spilled out, briefly illuminating the pavement, catching the edges of the rain as it fell.
For a moment—just a moment—it looked like someone might step out and cross toward him.
Izumi’s gaze flickered up.
Hope, sharp and sudden, cut through him before he could bury it.
It wasn’t him.
Of course it wasn’t.
Just another stranger, head ducked, umbrella tilted low.
Moving on.
Something in Izumi’s chest tightened.
Not enough to break him.
Just enough to remind him that it could.
“…I’ll wait,” he said quietly.
This time, the words were steadier.
More certain.
As if saying them out loud turned them into something real. Something solid. Something he could hold onto.
Even if it hurt.
---
The rain began to fall harder, no longer hesitant.
It soaked through his coat, clung to his hair, traced cold paths along his skin. The city blurred slightly at the edges, lights smearing into soft streaks against the wet pavement.
Still, Izumi didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Didn’t look away from the place where two streets met—where promises had once been made so casually they almost didn’t feel like promises at all.
---
“If you see this boy…” he murmured, voice nearly lost beneath the rain,
“…tell him I’m still here.”
And as the night deepened, and the world continued on without him—
Izumi Sena stayed.
Waiting.